How it Ends
by stevegallacci
Summary: Judy is gone and Nick struggles to carry on. Sorry for it being depressing and violent.
1. Chapter 1

Not a definitive end to my version of the future, more an examination of a what if. There is the old adage of 'write what you know', so I'm finding that I'm doing this from experience and as a bit of an exorcism. Getting those feels out of the way.

How it all ends

Nick got up, grudgingly ready for a new day. As he was now on second shift, he'd normally be getting up some hours later, but he had a thing today. An address to the Maple Ridge Middle School, one of the few things that he enjoyed in his fading celebrity.

He looked at himself in the mirror, not bad for nearly fifty. Still lean, only the slightest hint of an old male's paunch, so far. A bit grey around the muzzle, looking more distinguished than decrepit. In his dress blues, he still cleaned up nicely. Not that his duty uniform wasn't sharp, but it was a rather mediocre beat cop who wore it.

He glanced over to the portrait of Judy. Her academy graduation photo, so young, so bright. He felt the wedding band on his finger, though he hadn't worn it in eight, no, nearly nine years.

"Dispatch, this is Wilde, I've got a school talk today, Maple Ridge. I know I'm off shift, but count me in as needed." The new GPS deployment system would link any available assets to any call. Dispatch confirmed, "Your transponder is good. Have a better day."

Since he had called in, that meant he better take his tactical belt. It made for a more dramatic prop as well. His dress uniform was tailored and wouldn't accommodate armor, and it was going to be a warm one, so his duty uniform and a full suit up would be - sticky. Rather be comfortable and pretty. He double-checked his kit, comm gear, utility tool pouch, cuffs and extra zip-ties, a one-shot stunner, and his semi-auto darter. He hadn't carried his back-up pistol since- .

Nick had secured the use of a ZPD vehicle, making the trip well out of Zootopia center and away from Metro stations a lot easier. Being a very urban Fox, he had not learned to drive early on, no need, with the intense Metro network. Back in the day, Judy did most of the driving, as she forever chided him on his often timid performance behind the wheel. He smiled with some memories of how the off-roading Country Bunny would come out when needed.

Maple Ridge Middle School was new and shiny and oh so suburban. Everything that Zootopia promised for its new generation of upstanding citizens. At least those who could buy their way out the sometimes crowded and nasty older inner city neighborhoods. Though Nick had to admit there had been some real strides in urban renewal, not just greed-headed gentrification, these past few years. Not everywhere and not all at once, but the kind of progress that would have pleased Judy, who was dismayed to discover her idealized city had the kind of slums that only 'those other places' were notorious for.

He was met by the school's assistant administrator, a little old Mink. "I'm delighted you could come, Officer Wilde. I've personally admired what you've done for Zootopia since day one." She beamed. "The outline you sent was very helpful, as we've been able to provide some preparatory material for the children from it."

"Anything to help."

"And," she asided, "I'm very glad you seem to have struck a very balanced presentation, considering the persistent controversies."

That again. Striking a balance. Was he a cheerleader for the status quo, which had included complacency in the face of pred/prey and specie-ist factionalism? Or naive idealistic wishful thinking, and the self-righteous militancy that some demanded, for their own good, of course? Even worse, exposing the deep-seated xenophobia and worse that still lingered all these years on?

Poor Judy. She had had a hard time dealing with cynics and partisan opponents who questioned the purity of her motives, suspecting her to be a vanguard for everything from bloody anarchy to brutal authoritarianism.

No, Nick had winnowed his stock presentation down to the basics of individual responsibility, decency and consideration of one's fellow mammal. So universal and generalized that it would seem that only a truly hateful mind might find objection. Dismaying when some teacher or parent would still give him the stink eye or worse.

This time things went well. Nick was a natural raconteur even before his dubious early career, and even with a canned speech, relished in the engagement he could achieve. This made all the dull days of his routine life worth it. Especially as there was so much Judy in all of the sentiment.

All that was left was a little question and answer. Though a potential mine field, he was willing to take the chance to give the young ones a little extra contact. So far, it wasn't too bad, a lot of the questions included cop stuff, and he concluded with a heartfelt explanation of the terrible finality of taking another's life in response to whether he had ever shot and killed anyone.

That wasn't too bad, though his mind began to go to the bad places. Judy and him had an enviously impressive arrest record, and as these included some of the toughest cases, a rather high body count. He had, for some years when he was still at the First, an informal memorial wall, with images of his fallen comrades. They were always academy graduation portraits, when they were still new and innocent, interspersed with mug shots or coroner's photos of his victims. The arrangement was always done, and redone, as though it was complete, with no room for additions. It was one of the reasons why he ended up transferring to the Third, too many Ghosts.

Judy hated it. But never asked that he take it down. Even with her nightmares. She would glare at it, as though redoubling her resolve that it would not get another re-arrangement.

Last question. A cute little Bunny, chocolate and caramel colored, why did it have to be a Bunny. "Where is Officer Hopps now?"

"She got cancer."

'Never let them see that they get to you' ran screaming though his mind for a few minutes as he shook hands and allowed selfies with the students, teachers and a few parents. There was a Coyote, a plug-ugly of a male that made even his old commander, Captain Post, look like a fashion model. Nick had seen him in the back of the room, though carefully neutral in pose, his eye drilling into him the whole time.

"Not a bad speech." Without the sarcasm or contempt Nick was prepared for. "Almost makes me hopeful for the future." and he glanced over to his Daughter, a particularly floofy cub who was shyly standing some distance off.

Nick made a little bow and held out his hand to her. "Ma'am, and you are- ?"

"Arabeth." She breathed as she approached. She then Very Carefully considered her next words, "Could I be a police officer when I grow up?"

Nick glanced up at her Father, who shrugged a sad 'who knows'.

"My old boss is a Coyote, and he is still the best detective in the whole of the ZPD."

"Better than you?"

"Better than us all." Nick thought about that for an awkwardly long beat. Then collected himself and pulled out one of his business cards. He had been passing them out, with autographs, to those who were interested. On this one he wrote down Captain Post's name and contact information. He handed it over to the Father. "He's a good mammal, and hopeful for the future too."

Whether or not the Cub would really try to be a cop was less important than knowing that being a Coyote was not always an impediment to success. And Post could use some outreach. The loss of his youngest Son and subsequent divorce had left him with nothing but his job to keep him going. Making him see that he could be a role model, maybe even a mentor, instead of being 'too busy', was something Judy would want to do for him.

Nick was happy, no, maybe not happy. Happy was something he didn't do anymore. Maybe content. Encouraging tomorrow's citizens and all that. Mission accomplished. Judy would be proud.

He planned to go back to the precinct where he could get a nap and change into his spare duty uniform for his shift. As he rarely got to this neighborhood, he figured he take the scenic route back. See what there was to see. And maybe get some lunch.

Hammramm's? He heard it did great desserts and baked goods. Okay, get a bite and bring something back for the squad. The smell was like Gideon's bakery squared, with savories and spices along with the sweet warm. He had not been back there in years now, too many memories.

Looking in the display cases, Nick spied, "Blueberry Cheesecake!"

He sat down to a slice and a cup of coffee on the side and paused.

Today had been a good day. About as good as it ever got, actually. He had touched some lives, passed out encouraging words. And tonight he was going to do his little bit to make the streets of Zootopia safer. He knew all that intellectually, rationally, but he didn't feel it. He had been dutiful to the memory of his dear sweet cute Carrots. Without that, he would have lost himself in a bottle or a bullet long ago.

True, there was some fleeting joy in the moments, showing the Coyote Cub hope where he had not at a similar age, that did linger, but it didn't over-balance the numb, and the little nagging regrets that were his constant companions.

BOOM!

A Puma, with an automatic pistol. "We're partyin' tonight!" he shrieked, and fired into the crowd of customers. Again and again. Nick slapped his comm panic button and pulled out his darter to get a shot "10-32 Active shooter! Mass casualties!"

Nick got a shot off and caught the big Cat in the chest. The Mark Eight was developed for juiced suspects, better penetration, selective dosing, and a new drug mix that included an initial sharp burning sensation, to shock or at least distract a hyped actor. The Puma flinched with the impact, then smiled, pulling the dart out and biting it in half to show his distain.

"You'll have to do a lot better than that!" And fired again, this time over Nick's head to the sound of a scream and exploding glass. The Cat ducked down behind a point of purchase stand and began to systematically shoot down the scramble of mammals who were attempting to flee through emergency doors.

After a few seconds there was a pause. The Puma reloaded, it must be a fifteen round magazine. Nick glanced around to see the damage. The shop was in the shape of an 'L', the long ascender was the front counter and seating area. Nick and a few survivors were around the corner in overflow seating, while the Shooter had a fairly unobstructed view of the rest of the business. He had crowded some of the smaller patrons behind the counter space with him as a live shield. There were still a large number of mammals on the floor, cowering or hit.

"What do you want?" Nick yelled.

"I don't want to talk to you!" And fired at another victim. "All I want is for you to listen and invite all your friends!" There were already the sounds of sirens in the distance.

At that, Nick put on his comm head set and clipped on a mini body cam. Switching to encrypted tactical, "Wilde on site. Shooter is a Puma Concolor, automatic pistol. Likely juiced, not reacting to darts so far. Has hostages. Multiple casualties already."

"What's your status?"

"I have cover, but don't have an angle on him at the moment. Would recommend approach from the North."

Long, terrible minutes crawl on; the Shooter has little ranting outbursts, just word salad. And the occasional shot into another helpless victim. Nick can only watch in hopeless frustration. Over his comm he can hear the various units arriving and finding tactical approaches. Suggestions of flash bangs and knock out gas are raised, but none would stop him fast enough to prevent one last spasm of fire into the hostages around him. A SWAT officer appears across the street behind a ballistic shield to take a closer look.

"Ah ah ah!" the Shooter scolded, wagging his finger, "Only on my terms." And he shoots another victim, one caught out in the open near Nick. It's a little Bobcat Girl, and as she is only wounded, Nick risked trying to pull her to cover. Two more shots tear her apart. "This is still my game!" the Big Cat raged.

"DAMNIT! Where are you!" Nick hissed into his comm. "He'll kill everyone in here before his done!"

"Don't you think I know that!" The on-sight Commander raged back. "He likely wants to drag this out, make us witness it all, then do a suicide, either do himself by cop to end it."

The SWAT leader cuts in, "Wilde, is there any way at all we can get a shot?"

"Not as he is. He's got bodies all around him, and that end cap blocks your view even if they weren't there." Nick stood up and peeked around the corner to get a better angle. He saw the Shooter, hunched in with his hostages, as the Shooter saw him, he flashed his teeth in glee at the predicament.

Nick had his darter out, not quite raised, he didn't have a shot, and it would only provoke more killing. The Shooter saw the weapon, and wagged his finger again, mouths a 'nope' and then dramatically brought his own gun up to the head of one of his hostages, a Bunny Boy who was looking the other way, unaware, and fired.

Nick recoiled, jamming his fist in his mouth to stifle his scream. He had to do something, anything. This had to end before everyone was killed.

It all had to end.

Nick took a very deep breath, and oh so slowly let it out. There was a way to end it all.

"Wilde here, you've got guns on him from the North, right?"

"We got two, and a third coming."

"Aright, I have a plan. 'A' dart does nothing to this guy, but I'm willing to bet that if I go shoot out with him, he'll get provoked and try to exchange fire with me. When he does, he'll break cover and you'll get your shot."

"Lousy idea. Bet you don't have your armor, and considering how he's been so far, you risk a head shot."

"But I've got the moves. Not like I'm just going to stand there. Duck and weave and snap shots. Even if he's really juiced, a dart or two to the face will piss him off good."

"Still a really bad idea."

"But it is the only one that has a chance of stopping him right now."

Nick checked his darter, six in the magazine, one in the chamber, set to maximum dose. "On my three count."

"Damnit Wilde!"

"Guns ready."

Nick thought, my last con. Judy would so not approve, but he hoped she might understand.

Nick whispered, "I'm so sorry." then shouted, "One, two, three! Here, kitty kitty!"

The Shooter was surprised to see him come around the corner at the ready, and prepared to shoot another victim when Nick fired. The dart caught him square on the forehead and he was startled at that. Nick advanced slowly and deliberately, carefully aiming and firing, second shot to the cheek, third to the ear, the impact hard enough to create a perverse piercing, the dart dangling half way through. But the gamble didn't pay off, though enraged; the Shooter didn't rise up, and instead fired from the crouch.

The shot was a hammer blow to his gut, just to the right below the ribs. Sometimes, the nervous system is so stunned that there can be a perceptible delay between a terrible injury and the full agony of the damage. All Nick knew was that he was still standing and still seemed functional for the moment, and he continued to fire. He could not tell where he was hitting, but he continued to pull the trigger.

The Shooter had had enough, and screamed, "Just die now!" and rose to take a better aim. He fired one last time as two high power rifle slugs all but decapitated him.

Nick was down, the second shot was near center chest, and he couldn't breath, nor perceived his own heartbeat, and could only sigh out "judy" and was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

"How it Ends" was originally going to be the big reveal within this story about the 25th anniversary special, then in the innumerable re-writes I turned it into a stand alone with the extra lead-up. It was also an emotional time for me, in no small part due to the impending ninth anniversary of my own Wife's death due to cancer. Nearly everything that Nick felt in the story echoed my own bad days.

25

"Okay team, we're coming up on the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Bellwether Incident and the Network wants a big special on it. " The senior producer, an Elk Bull, beamed encouragement to the assembled team.

Several of the younger staffers roll their eyes with an 'old news' sigh.

Head of development, an old Badger, almost white all over with age, drew himself up and glared at the assembled body. "Those of you born after THAT don't appreciate how deeply, how fundamentally, things changed for Zootopia then. The very foundations of our institutions were in jeopardy, and we were only a hair's breadth away from sliding into the kind of chaos that still grips our overseas kin. That incident forced us out of our growing complacency to how Zootopia had become a hollow promise of what it could and should be."

The senior producer nodded to his college, "Yes, exactly, Mac." But he noted that many were still unconvinced.

Senior Creative piped up, "Okay, so we all know how bad the bad old days were, twenty miles to school, in the snow, up hill both ways, for fifteen months a year." He got a couple chuckles out of that, "I was just a kit in the before time, but I was aware of how my parents suffered and how things got so much better after. Those have you who have grown up in the new normal really don't realize how much things have changed." Seeing that most of the really young members of the staff were still unconvinced, he continued. "Think of it like that mythical time before the Interweb and smart 'phones. How difficult that must have been?"

He could see the collective 'Oh' with that analogy.

"And" added Tami, a Zebra from research, "We've already lost many of the principles and are bound to loose more sooner rather than later, so this could be our last chance to capture some real history."

"So, who do we have left to work with on this?"

"Bellwether was killed in prison. We have some old interviews as well her incomplete prison manifesto."

"Hopps died of cancer years ago. Only have the stock material from early on."

"Wilde died in the line of duty a while back. Same."

"Bogo just passed last year. We have an interview with him not long before though. Some pretty good stuff."

"Lionheart is still around, but a bit dotty."

"I checked on some of Hopps' and Wilde's co-workers from then and the time after, and most of them are still around and a few are willing to talk."

"Hopps' family?"

"They had some bad experiences early on with Trolls and Ghouls, so simply refused anything from then on. But it's been years, so it couldn't hurt to try.

"I've got archival interviews and analysis from all kinds of talking heads and am working with ZU for some up-to-date talking heads on the socio-political ramifications."

"This is sounding good. I want this to be a class act. Avoid softballs, and confirm everything. But. Mostly, keep it even and honest. I don't want this to come off as some kind of propaganda piece. We ARE NOT going to have a repeat of the ten-year special.

-

"Danny. I just got off the 'phone with Ed Humboldt's agent. Humboldt is wrapping up a new biography of Hopps and Wilde, and its also in-depth analysis of the times and consequences. Basically our project."

"Is there anything he's got that we don't already have?"

"For a lot of the well-hashed-over stuff, no. But he has already gone through the same source lists that we were planning. So we can use that, and or do follow-ups based on his initial work. And he has a lot of new stuff, some of it is just odds and ends, but he's reached out further, especially to examples of those affected by all that we don't normally think of."

"The best part is that, and his agent was loath to admit it, he wants to get involved just to do it. Screen credit, of course. Clearly he's hoping for a bump for his book out of this too."

"And, as I think of it, having his name on the project can't hurt us either. Well, after his book on Jacxson, maybe yes, maybe no. And with that in mind, you'd better cross-check anything you use of his, just to make sure."

"So, we can get him?"

"Yeah, and make him an honest offer too. Even if he doesn't want it, I know his agent, and He deserves his cut."

-

Minutes of development meeting HN25, full creative and marketing staff

Okay, sports fans, we're at two weeks of getting new content on this. From what I can see, we're going in the right direction. This isn't everything, but I'd like to get some feed back as to how we can use it.

NH25 interview - Robert "Wiley" Post.

Medium shot, middle aged Coyote, ZPD blues.

I was Hopps and Wilde's immediate supervisor when they came into the Detective Division.

Q- how were they to start?

A- they were already a perfect pair of partners coming in, and already had some real investigative experience under their belts, over and above the Night Howler case. Other than getting them settled into the way things were done, it was point them in the right direction and set 'em loose.

A- We've heard a lot about the 'perfect partner' aspect, can you elaborate?

They were always in sync with each other, had a wide-ranging skill set between them, and complimented each other, strength to weakness pretty much perfectly. Together, they were so much more than the sum of the two.

Working a case was like doing a picture puzzle. Hopps was the fit every part first to make the whole picture type while Wilde was trying to figure out the picture from the loose pieces as they were. It's a weak analogy, but does it give you an idea?

Q- There have been reports that, while they were media darlings early on and had impressive case results, their productivity fell off dramatically after the first year.

A- I heard about that kind of talk, and it doesn't reflect what was going on, just a weak date search of who's names got top billing on various case files. Hopps and Wilde were also great team players, ready to share information and give and take suggestions, all to get the job done. The early attention, they could hardly move without getting media coverage, not great for unit morale. So they got more collaborative, bringing in other to help work the case, and in many instances, gave them top billing. I'm not sure, but I'd bet you could find their names somewhere on the bulk of the whole unit's work at the time.

And they were good; their paper was always the cleanest, not vague or weak cases for prosecutors. And in maintaining such a high standard, they set the bar for the rest of the unit. Not to say that things were lax or questionable before or after, but the whole division ended up running at its peak towards the end.

(Can we get an in-depth? earlier report was based on a superficial search program)

Q- what can you, or are willing to say about the end?

A- I know you were going to ask about that, and yes I can talk about it. I had the best nose in the unit, and knew something was off with Hopps. But you can't just walk up to someone and say, 'hey, you smell off'. But I did later when it seemed more persistent. She shrugged it off.

Q- I'm going to jump on that, as I was going to ask about the pair's relationship, but do want to get back to the other after.

A- Like I said, I had a good nose, and could tell that they were groomers, but who isn't? I had been given a heads up that they were in a relationship, normally grounds for some kind adjustment in their assignments. But, instead, I was instructed to simply keep a close eye on them. I guessed higher ups wanted to handle them not as celebrities given privilege, but as an experiment. They were something outside of the norm and they wanted to see what would happen.

(Genetic tests showed she had a marker, and her diagnosis helped saver several of her younger sisters from her fate. see med reporting for general and specifics on that angle.)

The point being that she seemed to have totally cut off her sex life, at least earlier on. I could tell that they were social groomers, probably cuddlers too, but who isn't? Though when they did become roommates the suppressants were off. Department policy was not as hard on detectives with relationships, as they were not on the street nearly as much, so had less chance of interpersonal compromises getting them into trouble.

(Maybe get a note on the specifics of the policy?)

And, early on, Wilde was doing suppressants too. Being a celebrity brought out all kinds of potential groupies and such. Guess he was worried about getting pheromone-bombed.

(Anything on specifics to Wilde, and check to see how much of that is a real thing?)

Q- Getting back to the end?

A- Uhm. Anyway, by the time she was actually diagnosed, she was already getting close to stage three cancer. She was still able to do deskwork while getting treatment. We all thought that Wilde could be her legwork for cases, but he had become so reliant on doing everything with Hopps that he lost his edge when going solo. Or maybe her condition was affecting him? But they still had the magic when working together on the paper end of cases. The treatments held things at bay for a while, then she went into a steep decline. Wild took a leave of absence to be her full-time caregiver in her last couple months.

After she passed, he quite the unit, went back to being a beat cop.

Q- What do you know about how he did then?

A- As we were never super closely, social, and I was having some issues of my own, we largely lost contact. I did hear that he was merely adequate back on the street.

(Post lost his youngest son and had a separation from his wife and elder sons about then. Any more details?)

I wasn't surprised that he got killed in the line of duty. You loose your edge and bad things can happen.

-

"Danny. I know you can't really afford this face time, but I had to show you this in person."

"What do you got? And this has to be short. I got a thing at eleven."

"Quickly, several layers of good news, bad news. The good news. We got gold from our record access request. All the raw recordings from Wilde's last day, un-edited. At the time there was a lot cut out, most was just the ZPD not wanting the world to know that their officers have potty mouths. Then there were some tactical details that they didn't want potential bad guys to see. But mainly, the last twenty seconds of Wilde's shoot out."

"And that's the bad news. At the time they had his last communications as the official word as to what happened. And didn't want to show the last seconds, as it was too graphic and would just feed the ghouls and trolls. They were right about that. It's pretty awful. But. Here, I'll show you."

"Oh, Fry me! He just - . Oh, sonofabeaver. We're not going to show it, Cheese no! But we do have to work with it. That changes that whole part of the narrative."

"I know. And that's the next round of good news, bad news. I sent copies to Humboldt, figuring he'd need this ASAP to work it into the project. He said he didn't think he'd have a problem with it. But. He called me back a few minutes later, said he wanted a new deal. Everything on the TV special is still go, except, he wants a development deal for a movie based on Hopps and Wilde. Said he had an outline already for a screenplay. Though he didn't exactly say it, there was the implication that he might become uncooperative if ... So, I expect a call from his agent later."

"What do you think?"

"Not having him on board with this will cost us a lot of money to fill in where he left off. And, personally, I prefer his fiction, and his last screenplay became "Jelly's Night".

"Oh, that was a good little flick, though didn't have the budget to do it justice. Obviously we can't guarantee doing a movie, but make him as much as you can of an offer just short of that. And if what he shows you is worth a damn, pass it on up and I can offer it to the board."

-

Excerpt from film pitch 23 July

"They fell in love with each other as they fell in love with what Zootopia could be. You saw the interviews, their selfless efforts to support the ideals of all this. The wide-eyed optimist and the jaded cynic combined to become something more. The Night Howler incident created it, and the results became a transcendental event for us all. Then Judy was taken before she could fully enjoy those fruit, while Nick was left as a broken fraction of what had been before, then sacrificed himself in one final gesture. I said it before, a kind of Romeo and Juliet story, with Zootopia making it kind of a three way."

-

On the twenty-eight anniversary of the Night Howler Incident, the new movie, "Lovers and the City", opens tonight. We have with us tonight the two principles, Debbie Woods and Bernard Veruscha, who play Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde.

While you both have legitimate acting credits under your belts, is there any truth that you were cast due to your familial relationships? You, Debbie, as Judy's Niece and Bernard, Nick's Son.

"For my part, I never hid the fact I was Judy's Niece, but it never actually give my career much traction, basically a non-issue. And though I do look a lot like her, it took some real acting to catch her character.

But, you, Bernard, you didn't reveal that you were Nick's son until well after production closed.

Yeah. I wanted to do the job as me, not as a ghost of my Father.

But you played him so well.

That was mostly good acting. I didn't know him well growing up. You can thank Saunders and Reardon for the script and Humboldt for the original screenplay that made the character pop. Wilde, he was Uncle Nickie, who did his best to spoil me rotten as a little kit. I was like twelve when he told me he was my Father and died not long after.

You two had a great on-screen chemistry, anything beyond that?

Oh gwad no! Bernie is a fox, and I'm not as wide ranging in my interest as my Aunt was. He's also too 'new age sensitive male' for my taste. But we are obliquely family and I'd like to think of us as friends.

Yeah. Debbie and I got along just fine as co-workers on set and hung out on occasion off. We did ham it up sometimes and the tabloids gobbled it up, of course.

Debbie just mentioned the sensitive male thing and there had been some speculative press about your- interests?

Oh, Cheese! I've been on going with my childhood sweetheart, Cindy- Hi Cindy - since we were both, like fourteen? Just been keeping her out of the limelight.

The movie, with its comparison to Romeo and Juliet, has you both playing the characters a bit younger than they actually were, though you, Bernard, had to play Nick up to his late Forties.

Yeah, they wanted to take advantage of our looks and reduce the age difference between them, I guess the original didn't test well or some such. But good acting and great make up did the rest.

Was it tough doing Nick's final scenes?

Yes and no. Acting on a movie set is often a few second of action only after hours of set up, and a lot of that for the actor is just waiting, then often that same bit of action done over and over. So most of the shoot-out was done over several days, with a lot of retakes and alternate set-ups. So, I was spending most of my time just dealing with such and such little fraction of time and how to do it.

The one exception was that final scene. Instead, the directors set up I don't know how many cameras, from all kinds of angles and distances. We walked though the action a zillion times. The poor extras as hostages, stuck there the whole time. So when you see their desperate faces, they were not acting. Then we did it in one take. At the time, all I could think about is hitting my marks.

It wasn't until I saw the rushes later, and some damn bastard had done a split screen to compare my scene with the real thing. I had not seen it before, and didn't realize I was doing an almost frame for frame re-enactment. I lost my lunch seeing it and had to take a couple days off.

As awfully dramatic as Bernard's death scene was, Debbie got the most of the advanced critical acclaim with her low-key performance as Judy in her final days. Is there anything you can say about it?

It's all the script and direction again. All I had to do is lay there with more and more make-up.

Be that as it may, there is already talk of Oswalds for both of your performances. As well as rumors of other movies with the two of you?

Yeah, there's an offer for a remake of Zootopia, done as a more factual straight drama, with none of the over-the-top action and comedy of the original. I really don't know if that will happen, but I'm up to do it.

And I got feelers for a spy thriller, based on the Anlef memoirs. Did you hear about that?

Yeah, but they were talking about recasting Nick as a wolf. Go figure.

Well, we'll be sure to catch whatever you do. And in the meantime, "Lovers and the City" premiers tonight. It is a remarkable film with great performances by these two young actors.


	3. Beyond the End

**After writing** ** _How It Ends_** **at a time when I was in a bad way about my own Wife's passing, my sentimental old fart side kicked in and now have a less awful fate for my favorite Fox.**

Pain and confusion. An animal, an organism, struggling in pain and drugged stupor.

Then it clarified into Nick Wilde. Where was he? Why was he there? What had happened? It was a hospital room. And he was in an oversize bed, anchored with innumerable tubes and wires. And he hurt. Hurt badly. All over. Correction. He felt awful all over, but the real pain was in his lower right side.

That's right. He had been shot. It was at the bakery. And the shooter. And how he came to be shot.

Part of him wanted to cry. That he would have considered what he tried to do. And that he had failed.

Suicide was something he otherwise would have never entertained. But in that moment, to save civilians from a drug-crazed shooter, and end his hollow life, it seemed the thing to do.

But here he was. Still alive. He wondered what may have happened. His memory was just a scramble of fragments. Mammals being shot, his own helplessness. Then confronting the shooter, A Puma, wired on Juice? Did he really do that? He remembered a hammer blow to his body, but beyond that?

A Nurse came in the room, seemed happy to see him awake.

Nick had to ask. "So how bad is it? Will I ever play the piano again?" He was surprised at how weak he sounded. Sure, he felt awful, but he could usually muster more than such a weak wheezing croak. At least his wits were up to speed.

She laughed. "Nothing like that. But you do have a nasty hole in you. Hit your liver, and kind of chewed you up in general. But nothing that won't heal in time."

"Oh poot. And here I was, thinking I was in heaven, with such an angelic vision before me." Or maybe he just needed to talk more, as his voice seemed to recover a bit.

The nurse, a rather unremarkable little Wombat, laughed all the harder. "I was warned you were a card, Mr. Wilde. A good sign after all you've been through."

"Yeah, that's me." Said less jovially. Nick suddenly had a future, with repercussions, and didn't have a clue what to do next.

The nurse showed him the bed controls and the call button. And the pain medication control. "You shouldn't need to worry about becoming an addict. It is a better tailored synthetic opioid with the pain managing without some of the side effects."

Nick tried the medication control, and was pleasantly surprised that he could feel the effect fairly quickly. He really did hurt. After the nurse left, he ran it up further. He was in no condition to lie there and fret about things, so sought drug-driven oblivion and was not disappointed.

He didn't really know how much time had passed, between proper sleep, the damage and pain was exhausting, and doped unconsciousness until the new Chief, Kamatti came to visit. Unlike the micro-managing Bogo, she spent her time administering to the whole of the ZPD, so Nick had rarely seen her and didn't really know her.

The matronly Lioness was unreadable as she sat down besides his bed. "So. Almost got away with it."

"Uhm?"

She scowled. "Saw you body cam and the security footage. You're not the first to try suicide by line-of-duty."

Nick sighed. "And failed. But what happened? Did it help with the situation?"

"You don't know?" The Lioness was sadly surprised. "The shooter put that into you while he was still in cover." Indicating his aching and heavily bandaged middle. "Then, when you didn't go down, he got angry and rose up for a better shot. SWAT got him a second before he would have finished you."

"Yay for them." Nick grumbled.

"Wish you wouldn't talk like that."

"I wouldn't be here, costing the city and likely going to cost the city more in the weeks, months, maybe years to come." Came out rather bitterly.

"I suspect the city would consider the expense more than worth it. You are a hero once again."

Nick gave his superior a hard, direct look. "Tell that to the families of those who got shot before I acted."

At that, the Lioness flinched.

"Uhuh. And they have every right to be upset. I should have done more sooner."

"Uhmph! I've watched the whole thing a dozen times already, and can't see where you could have done any better. You would have only gotten shot earlier without drawing him out to be stopped. He had more than enough ammo on him to kill everyone in the place and every indication that was his plan."

"Yeah, what was all that about anyway? Just some spree killer?"

"No. It started out as a domestic. He got upset over something with his girlfriend." Chief Kamatti rubbed her muzzle. "He got the gun from the same fools who had been dealing Juice. He Juiced up there, shot them, then went and shot the girlfriend and her roommate. The shop was where she worked."

Nick shook his head. The one terrible fallout of the otherwise long gone Bellwether case, Juice and other organic or synthetic derivatives of the night howler serum. "So what now?"

"Well, the inquest won't need your testimony, plenty of cameras. There's a push to get to it right away, and you won't be in any shape to attend."

"And make sure I don't say something?"

"For your sake." She gave him a peeved look. "And it is more for the SWAT sniper's shooting hearing anyway."

"Yeah." Nick didn't envy the mammal that had to pull the trigger on anyone, regardless of circumstance, and hoped he could take solace in that he had stopped a monster.

"I suppose you heard that this time I won't be able to go back to duty. Too much damage this time."

"Not that I'd allow you back. You were marginal already, and attempted suicide doesn't help your profile."

"Marginal?" Nick faux pouted. "I'll have you know that I was entirely adequate, thank you."

"Adequate?" Kamatti scowled. "Not for Officer Wilde. Worse, you've been testing in the lowest acceptable percentile for years now. Not to mention your general performance and procedures." She then gave him a more knowing look. "With one exception."

Nick was truly puzzled by that.

"We get feedback from the public you know. And would you be surprised to learn that you consistently get some of the best reports for public interaction in all of the ZPD?"

Nick scowled at that. "If that's true, then you've got a bigger problem than me. I've only done my job."

Chief Kamatti huffed. "That's not what a rather thick file on you says. And it is a lot more than your stock, its what Judy would want me to do."

Nick snarled at that. "Don't ...!" And he turned away angrily.

"Officer Wilde. When you were not indulging in your self-deprecating pity party, you were contributing more to make the world a better place than you ever realized." The Chief scolded in her best vexed mother tone. "Even Captain Post forwarded an appreciation just the other day."

"It was nothing." And seeing her about to object, he shouted, "It! Was! Nothing!" And immediately flinched in pain with the exertion.

"From what I'd been told by Bogo and others, that's been your standard deflection even before." She looked at him in sympathy. "You'd play the glory hound clown over the big bust, but when it was some little thing that showed some heart." A more firm stare. "You'd insist you were doing it only at Hopps' insistence, or later, in her memory."

Nick gave her a look of naked hate, but said nothing.

"As I figure it, all your life you've played roles. Savvy hustler, street-wise cop, cynical fox. And none of them dared showed any tenderness, anything that showed emotional vulnerability."

The Chief's tone turned more tender. "But I bet Hopps saw the real you. And you'd slip on occasion. How you interact with kits, and all those little kind and conscientious things you do that you now deny."

Seeing that Nick was in no mood to talk, she got ready to leave. "Wilde, you haven't always been a good officer, but you've always been a good mammal, much better than you ever give yourself credit."

Nick lay in quiet rage for some time, tears streaming at the same time. He then toggled his pain management delivery, knowing that he could max it and knock himself out, at least for the moment.

Other well-wishers attempted to visit, but he demanded that he be left alone. Considering his still fragile state that was not entirely a bad idea. Moreover, he was quick to become agitated and verbally abusive, threatening his condition and those relationships with erstwhile friends.

But even that got boring, and he settled into the idle long wait that predators were apt to do. And keeping his pain maintenance cranked up made zoning out all the easier.

Another day and another Doctor entered the room. A Rabbit. No, it was Jeremy, Judy's younger brother. Nick cringed, as he had largely avoided the rest of the Hopps family, especially after the first year or so. Too many painful memories. He was a Doctor now, but shouldn't he be back in the 'Burrow?

"Doctor Hopps?"

'Hey Nick. While I do have privileges here, I'm only semi-official. Got a special case." His look implied he meant Nick.

"Oh dear. I hope it's not about what happened." Nick wasn't going to get angry, but instead he felt a rising dread. It seemed that the sight of any rabbit or hare would remind him too much of all that had come before, and it could still hurt.

"Less about that, but if you want or need to talk about that... No, it's more about what are you going to do next?"

"Well, I had never really made any retirement plans, never thought I'd last that long, even without any impulsive moves."

"The ZPD isn't that hazardous."

"I never felt any kind of lucky since... Or maybe I subconsciously knew I might go that way."

"Yeah."

"So, are we going to dance around what you have in mind, what's the farm news, how are the folks, or can we get to it?"

"Okay. We want you to come home with us."

Nick recoiled in shock, and then was stock still, mouth agape.

"Nick, while we understand why you've avoided us for so long, we still regard you as family and morn that you have kept yourself in isolation."

Nick wasn't going to get angry. Despite everything, those silly rabbits were still as close to family as he had left. Finally, "You Bunnies, so emotional."

"Yeah. But I am serious."

"And what would you have me do? Be the resident fluff for the kits?"

"As a matter of fact..."

"What? Are you crazy?" Nick's anger flared.

"Nick, are you that traumatized? Does it really hurt that much?" Jeremy gave him a critical look.

Nick looked away, fuming. After a moment, "I don't want to face them." Then, after a long moment's consideration and more plaintively, "I guess, it's more out of guilt anymore." A sigh. "Having avoided them early out of pain, now it's all those years of neglect."

"Don't let Mom hear anything like that. She'd give such an ear pull and scolding for that kind of silliness."

Nick cracked a wane smile at that. "And where is the Hopps Matriarch? I was dreading that she might show up."

"Old enough now to take my advice about travel. She and Dad are getting on and are Finally easing off from all the warren's business." Seeing Nick's concern at that news, he explained. "They're not all that enfeebled actually. But I was the one who got the call from your Chief, and she filled me in on a few things. So thought it better that they don't try to rush over."

"Thanks for that, especially right after. Still a bit disappointed with the outcome at that moment."

"So I heard." Jeremy poked at Nick's E-chart. "Looks like you'll be here for a while still. Then a lot of physical therapy, the shot messed up your musculature pretty good. You'll be in a back brace for a while." He gave Nick a smile. "But that can be done as an out-patient anywhere, and Tri-Burrows General has a Doctor who already has your history."

"That assumes I go along with your mad plan."

"Got any better offers? Besides being the Great Fluff again, you'll have a warren full of Bunnies eager to take care of your recovery. While there have been a few other preds come through in the years since, you are still the first and favorite."

Nick made a dismissive exhale at that.

"However, along with your basic recovery needed to get you up and out of that bed, we'll need to wean you off your pain meds."

"They're not addictive."

"Not physically. But you've been maxing your doses. Keeping yourself knocked out, I'd guess?"

Nick only grumbled.

"Uhuh. Habitual use can be just as bad. I can understand boredom, or avoiding hard subjects. But like I said, we want you back, and I'd hope that would give you something to think about in a positive way."

Seeing Nick's non-verbal non-answer, Jeremy continued. "Or I can arrange a portable fluffle to menace you here."

Nick had to crack a smile at that, then his face again pinched back into a sad frown.

"Or you can indulge in your self-inflicted misery." Jeremy shrugged and made ready to leave.

"Oh. And if you really want to off yourself anytime soon, here." And Jeremy tossed a small bottle over. "Acetaminophen. With your generally delicate condition, especially with the damaged liver, wouldn't take much of an overdose to finish the job. Not super quick, but if you do it here, they can provide some level of palliative care before you kick it."

"Cheese! You have some bedside manner, Doctor Hopps." And Nick offered a genuine smile.

Jeremy scoffed, "Foxes, so emotional!" And was gone.

Nick shook his head as he considered the bottle for a moment, and then tossed it into a wastebasket. "Three points, and the crowd goes wild for Wilde."

He laid back and considered his new options with just a hint of a smile.


	4. Chapter 4

Pain. Even after some weeks, Nick Wilde's life still focused around pain. The damage to his torso's musculature was substantial; including that along his spine, so even sitting upright could be agonizing if he wasn't careful. Not as bad as it had been earlier, and the application of heavy medication had kept him oblivious through the worst of it.

The other pain, of a hollow life without his mate ten years on, and the turmoil of emotions of a failed suicide where another matter.

Now he was weaning himself off the meds, as they had become more a drugged refuge from his wider predicament than a palliative to his physical discomfort. The prospect of some kind of future had given him some little hope, but in the meantime he still hurt.

He ever so carefully leaned back into his powered wheelchair, enjoying the soft cacophony of the various mammals in the hospital cafeteria. That he missed the racket of others was a bit of a surprise. He had prided himself on his social independence heretofore, but had to admit that, other than his brief times off shift, he was constantly surrounded by the population of the city. The enforced isolation of his hospital room had made that all too obvious.

As well as the soothing sounds of life around him, he could interact with others. He still enjoyed some small celebrity as half the Wilde/Hopps Saviors of the City as well as his new heroics, but it was his indefatigable charm that brought smiles to most anyone he met.

"You done with that, sir?" The bus beast, a young wallaby asked.

Nick stirred from his reverie to respond. "Oh? Oh. Here you go." And he deftly stacked his plates and cup and gave the table a quick wipe before surrendering the collection. Seeing the puzzled expression on the fellow, he explained. "Known too many others who do this kind of thing to make it any more difficult for you."

"Thank you, sir." The Joey smiled and nodded to the elder fox.

Nick was of two minds about the youngster's reactions. The Joey clearly didn't recognize him, not a surprise in that Nick's most famous period was likely when he was still in-pouch. All glory is fleeting and all that. On the other paw, some anonymous courtesy never hurt.

Chief Kamatti's words still made his teeth grind though. Suggesting he was anything but the bitter, cynical old dog that he was. And that fool of a Hopps, suggesting he spend his waining years in the 'Burrows.

Thinking of which, Doctor Jeremy was threatening to come and visit today. Meeting here meant there'd be witnesses to anything that happened. That was a joke of course, but one he couldn't help but think.

And where was he? Jeremy, like all Hopps, took pride in their punctuality.

As he thought it, he caught sight of that tall Rabbit, Jeremy was unusually tall for a Hopps Bunny, and combined with the heavier set like his parents, made him look even larger. Judy had been taller than average herself, doubly so with her atypical ears, but always maintained a leaner athletic build.

Jeremy caught sight of him and waved, and in that Nick could see he'd brought some other bunnies with him. Who caught his eye was the dark Doe at his side. He'd heard that Jeremy had finally found a mate now rather late in life, and as Nick was aware of his early conflicted early love life, was happy for him in that.

What he was not expecting were the two little bunnies trailing behind them. Apparently just toddlers, twin little Does, favoring their Mother's color if he guessed right.

"And this is all the fluffle you threatened me with?" Nick announced in stern disappointment.

"Would you really want to face the entire cohort in your current condition?" Jeremy countered, pointing at Nick's chair.

At that, Nick recoiled in mock dread. "You've got me there." Recovering, he regarded the unfamiliar family before him. "And who are these dark beauties?" Nodding to the three Does. "Certainly no one that would have anything to do with the likes of you."

"You'd think." Jeremy laughed. "But there is no accounting for taste, so Angela married me. Angela, my wayward brother-in-law Nicholas Wilde."

The Dark Doe gave the old Todd a critical look and a smirk, "Kind of scruffy to be the much vaunted 'Fluffy One', don't you think?" Oh, she was a sharp one and Nick liked her in an instant.

"Well, that was back in his prime, before he became such an old frost-muzzle." Jeremy explained.

Nick theatrically blinked and went slack-jawed in shock. Then, "What would your Mother say about you disrespecting your elders like that?"

"I suspect she'd let that pass, considering what she threatened when she can finally get her paws on you."

Nick had a flicker of real dread at that, though out of guilt, for his neglect of the dear old Doe. Then, focused on the two little ones, definitely twins, in matching outfits. They had been watching the interplay of the gown-ups in curious attention, and now returned his gaze in obvious delight.

Jeremy knelt down to face to face with them, "Girls, this is you Uncle Nick, the Fox I've been telling you about. And like I told you, while he loves little bunnies, right now he is a bit hurt, so you can't get up and fluffle him for now." He turned to Nick for confirmation, who had to sadly nod and shrug at that.

Standing back up and ushering them forward, Jeremy then presented the two. "My daughters," And he caught himself, giving Nick a little apologetic cringe, "Nichole and Judith."

Nick was surprised that it didn't hurt to hear those names. Instead his face lit up in real joy. "Nikki and Judy?"

The two little ones beamed at the recognition and their parents subtlely relaxed a bit seeing his positive reaction.

Nick considered a moment, then, "Tell you what. If you two are very gentle with me, I've love to have you up in my lap for just a little fluffle." And he glanced at the parents for confirmation.

The Twins looked up to their parents as well in unspoken pleading.

"Aright, but you have to promise you won't gobble them up." Angela warned.

"Normally, that would be a prudent demand," And Nick wiggled his brows,

"But at the moment, I'd be more worried about them nibbling on me or breaking something."

Jeremy lifted up one of the kits, "Here's little Nichole," He then paused and gave her a closer look, "Or is it Judith?"

"Da! No!" The little one squirmed.

"You are the most awful Father!' Angela huffed as she picked up the other one, only to give her a little once over too. "Or, uhm... Here!" And she thrust her Daughter towards Nick, though very carefully set her on his lap.

The Kit in turn gazed up at the old fox and proudly announced, "I Judit!"

Nick glanced over to the other and motioned her over. "And you must be Jabberwocky!"

As Jeremy set her down besides her sister, she huffed, "I Nikle!"

"Of course you are." And Nick pulled them close, trying to not show any discomfort. Seeing both parents noticing his reaction, he explained. "Got to take the bitter with the sweet." He then nuzzled the two who giggled and cooed at the attention.

In that, all the memories of his time back at the 'Burrow, being the "Fluffly One" to Judy's kin and the genuine love he felt from the collected bunnies came back to him. The Judy parts still stung, but not so much as to avoid the recall.

Nick looked back to Jeremy and Angela and the three shared a bit of shared joy.

Finally, Nick relented. "Okay Doctor Bunny. I can see coming home could be a real thing." The use of the word 'home' was not lost to all of them, and there was a more teary eyed shared expression between them. Nick had to, of course, spoil the mood. "But you realize you'll be stuck with this stinky old Todd. Especially as normal bathing will be a bit problematical for a good while."

Angela gave Nick a rather predatory look. "I wouldn't count on that, as I suspect there would be any number of Bunnies who'd be very interested in keeping you clean and particularly well groomed."

Nick looked to the Husband in shock. "Cheese, Jeremy! What has the warren come to?"

For his part, Jeremy could only shrug and hold out his paws in helpless supplication. "When has anyone been able to keep a pack of determined Does in line?"

Nick knew that the threat was not nearly as sordid than it sounded, and moreover, found himself actually looking forward to the prospect of getting an attentive groom from a loving family. He gave the kits another nuzzle then leaned back to enjoy the moment.

A part of him did flicker back to that fateful day, and how terribly different the outcome could have been, not only for him but everyone else. He honestly hadn't considered that anyone cared back in the 'Burrow, that he was simply old business best forgotten.

"I'm so sorry." He finally said. "And thank you."

Jeremy simply cocked his head in a half shrug. "Hey, it's what we do for family." But Nick could tell that he knew what he was thinking and was all the more grateful for it. "And thinking about that, any requests for you bedroom decor? Mom was threatening a soft desert peach."

Nick had to make a face, then thought. "How about a nice light warm grey."


End file.
